November 18, 2011

The Hidden


I am a plastic Mexican Jesus on a dashboard
a cold hard mold with seams where
doubts grow
I am imbued with the faith of a child
with a father who works for nothing
and sits on the couch with sex eyes
I am the daughter Carmen
with swollen lips and see-through dresses
who stays away after school
so she won’t have to play that game
I am the thin plastic frame that 
sits on your bathroom sill
watching what you do when no one is 
around
But I am not whatever you are

and that’s the main thing


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